Protector Daddy (MC Daddies 3)

“They’re a gang. They’ve got a nasty name for themselves. They’re trying to move in on Montana and more specifically into this city. My city.”

“A man I met the second night I was here said that he didn’t want to linger around because we were on the outskirts of Steele territory. He seemed scared.”

“That so?” Damon drawled. “What man was that?”

“Oh, just this guy who wanted to steal my handbag. It’s a one-of-a-kind. My friend made it for me.”

Damon looked over at the handbag still hanging from Spike’s hand. It was a patchwork of material in various shades of red and gold. “Since you’re still in possession of it, he obviously wasn’t successful.”

“No, I suppose he thought

that his gun gave him the upper hand.”

“He pulled a fucking gun on you?” the voice came from right behind her and she jumped. How had Spike gotten so close and she didn’t even notice? For the size of him, he should sound like a stampeding bull when he moved, not a light-footed ballerina.

She had to grin at the thought of him in a pink tutu, now that would be hilarious.

Millie always dreamed of being a ballerina. But instead of being svelte and sure on her feet, she was chubby and clumsy.

“You think it’s funny that some guy held you up at gunpoint?” Spike asked incredulously as he came to sit beside her. His big thigh was pressed up against hers. She had to suppress a shiver. What was wrong with her?

She took in a steadying breath and slid her gaze over to Damon. “I didn’t find it funny at all . . . it was . . .” terrifying, frightening, a sign of how unprepared and naïve she was. But she didn’t let any of that show because . . . because those emotions were all too real. They were dark. Scary.

And she didn’t deal with dark and scary well.

“Anyway, that’s why I’m here.”

“I’m sorry?” Damon asked with a confused look. “I don’t understand. How does you nearly getting robbed lead you here to Pinkies?”

“Oh, not that part.” She waved her hand. “It was the bit that came next.”

“What came next?” Damon inquired.

She licked her lips, looking over at Spike. Why was he sitting so close to her? Sure, he was a big guy but there was plenty of room on the sofa for the two of them to sit without being pressed up against one another.

“This is what I tried to tell you last night, but you wouldn’t listen to me,” she said to Spike.

“Really?” Damon drawled. “Why don’t you tell me, Millie. I’ll listen.”

Spike grunted.

“See, the guy who tried to rob me had just run off—”

“Why did he run off?” Grady asked.

“Oh well, I might have drawn my gun out and aimed it at him.”

“Your gun that has no bullets in it,” Spike stated.

It wasn’t a question so she didn’t reply. “He ran off and I was turning to leave when I spotted Mr. Fluffy huddled by a dumpster. I was bent down, coaxing him towards me when a backdoor into the alley opened and two men walked out.”

Spike groaned. She turned to look at him in concern. He sounded like he was in pain. “Are you all right?”

“Fuck. Me.”

She noticed Grady watching her curiously as though she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. She gave him a wide smile, but she felt certain that he saw entirely too much for her liking.

But she ignored that for the moment. She’d likely never see him again, so it didn’t matter what he saw or thought he had figured out about her.